My Final Seconds With You
by Sublime-Tranquility
Summary: Especially since these are my final seconds with you, and we must make the most of them. OneShot DG Third Person Story


**My Final Seconds With You**

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She was ready to disappear.

The water roared underneath her to an irrepressible beat, licking the bridge with its harsh spray and staining the concrete a much darker colour than it otherwise was…

A lone tear escaped her eye and she shut it resolutely, feeling the bleak wintry air fill her lungs as she desperately inhaled the smells of the world around her for the last time. Her brilliant red hair was splayed clumsily on her back, gently rippling with the breeze. She breathed the stench of death, felt it consume her sanity like a snake, leaving nothing but poisonous mortality for her to mull over.

It was so cold out here, her mind nagged at her to wear the cloak she had brought along with her.

She glanced at the sooty black covering that was draped over the ramp, but instead flung it over the side of the bridge, watching as it made its plummet toward the beckoning waves beneath her.

She hugged herself tighter, her bright red curls splaying frenziedly with the breeze.

"Thank Goodness," she heard a gruff whisper from behind her that startled her into turning away from her gaze of the water.

A jolt of surprise shot through her.

"_Malfoy?" _she said doubtfully.

He was standing, shielded by the shadows, a few inches from her, his obscured eyes glaring at her form as if she had done something very, very disappointing.

"You're inexplicable, Ginny Weasely," he sighed, stepping forward to lean over the railing of the bridge.

She raised her eyebrow at him, his blonde hair plastered thinly to his tired pale skin.

"I thought you were better than this, that's all," he shrugged, and the girl was taken aback.

"Malfoy, surely you would have expected this sooner rather than later," she whispered, gazing into the nothingness of the night air.

"And why might that be?"

A bitter smile lilted her lips.

"Well I ought to be upset enough to end my life after being born into a family of blood-traitors, right?"

He looked down at the water at this statement.

"Weasely, you can't be serious, after everything that has happened."

She laughed coldly.

"Spare me the reformed man speech if you would be so kind," she spat at his form. "A person can only change so much, Malfoy, and roots burrow deep."

"Pray tell how you could come to such an _articulate_ conclusion when you yourself are so young, Weasely," retorted the boy as harshly.

"I'm only one year younger than you!" she snapped, angrily tossing her scarlet hair out of her line of vision.

His own hair ruffled with the wind.

"I will always consider you a child, Weasely," he said stiffly.

The girl gripped the railing tightly in her pale hands.

"I'll do it, Malfoy," she said, peering over the edge of the platform.

"And you know I'll just haul you back up by the collar of your blouse," he said flippantly, finally meeting her eye to eye.

There was an ebony black fire blazing within his blue orbs that the girl was taken aback for a few seconds, as her eyes swiftly passed over the deep cut in his shoulder oozing blood onto the tattered sleeve of his shirt.

His gaze slackened.

"Yes, Weasely, I'll die soon," he nodded, looking back at the flowing river.

She felt her blood freeze cold.

"You mean _they_ wounded you?" she asked, not daring to believe it.

He sighed.

"I like to think of it as a blessing, so that I may finally leave this cruel, cruel world, you know?"

She felt her shoulders slump.

Suddenly her situation seemed to have improved remarkably.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"So am I," he returned, looking back at her. "But not for myself. For you. For everyone on this blasted planet."

He amazed her, to be so malicious even at such a fraught moment.

"How did you know I was here anyway?" she asked slowly.

"A hunch," he shrugged. "And your hair was pretty noticeable from my house, you know."

She rolled her eyes.

"Malfoy, we haven't really grown up much have we?"

He eyed her, his brow raised in consideration.

"How gracious of you to include me in that statement. No, I suppose we haven't much, have we?"

Her gaze moved to his long, nimble fingers that were wound around his jacket in a tight grasp. He was so pale, so vulnerable, and yet so familiar all of a sudden…

"I mean you still hate me and I hate you, right?" she spoke quietly. "So what was the point of winning the war, really?"

He looked up at her quickly.

"Don't say that," he whispered. "You don't know what you're implying. You don't know the darkness, the slavery that would have enveloped our world if we had not won. We wouldn't be standing here having this little chit chat, for one."

Her face flushed red in embarrassment, her eyes wide at his use of the word _'we'_, her eyes suddenly rushing around the landscape before them…

The shattered homes, the river beneath her, stained brown and red with blood, numerous wands and wards lying around, all promises of protection in the hands of competent men and women.

And yet, they were all competent, all who fought on this battlefield; but it was their hope, their courage that had finally aided them, not mere pieces of enchanted jewellery and sticks.

And here she and Malfoy stood, two enemies of old, looking upon their situation together.

Words suddenly sprung to her mouth.

"I more so meant that if petty differences like ours couldn't be righted, then what was the point of a victory?"

He looked at her carefully.

"Weasely, are you so selfish? After I switched my loyalties and pledged allegiance to Potter at personal risk, you have still not been inspired to give up a few of your petty indulgences? Why, are you so self-absorbed?"

Her brow creased.

"No, Malfoy," she said, gazing intently at the rushing water. "I'm just cold and empty, like a shell."

"And just as freckled as one, too," Malfoy agreed, and she frowned, amazed at his flippancy. "You're much taller now, you know? I can't tease you about being a cross between a dwarf and a goblin anymore, now can I? Must just stick with the goblin."

His hands were clasped and he leaned into the railing, simply twiddling his thumbs.

She was reminded of her father, and felt her eyes begin to moisten.

"Weasely, you know I'm repentant when I think of your brothers and family," he finally spoke amid a sigh. "I did try to stop that mission from following through."

His voice was so melancholic that she could not help but let out a sob.

He exhaled a breath that he had evidently been holding a while.

"I know how much they meant to you, and I can scarcely imagine how it must be for someone like you to lose the persons that you the love the most," he continued, and she looked at him.

"You lost your family too."

His eyes closed.

"My family was a disgrace to me. They did not love me, nor I they. I don't expect you to pity me, though."

His skin seemed to turn ten tones whiter all of a sudden, and her heart plummeted in worry for him.

"Malfoy, you're… you're all right, you know? You helped us in the end and we could never have won without you."

"I was not so quick on the uptake but, I have to admit" he said dejectedly, and she was surprised at his bitterness at himself.

"I'm sorry they wounded you," she said for lack of words. "But that's not to say I didn't expect as such from them."

He nodded and focused his gaze on the water rushing below them, slowly corroding the mineral foundations of the bridge upon which they stood.

She felt her throat go bone dry, and chanced a glance at his tired, ashen face.

He seemed truly sorry for his actions against the Good Side. But his treason, his betrayal of the foe, his former clique – he would always bear the burden of that, of course until…

"How long more do you have?" she swallowed, not daring to chance a glance at him.

He sighed.

"Not long. I feel the slow creep of mortality like a stain, spreading through my limbs, moving swiftly towards my heart. I just think that if I spend the last few moments of my life in the company of someone righteous, I might be able to forgive myself."

Her lips went numb.

"Aren't you afraid, Malfoy?"

He looked at her then, eyeing her long, wavy, currant-coloured hair and slowly brought his fingers to it, combing it, twirling it, his eyes a fierce, dark indigo.

"Not of death. Of immortality, yes. I couldn't stand to live forever."

Her eyes closed, as the pleasant sensations rapidly increased as she felt his diminishing breaths on her cheek…

"Neither could I..."

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End file.
